


Getting It Right

by irisbleufic



Category: Hot Fuzz (2007)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-01
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 21:12:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's <i>your</i> idea of a perfect _____ ?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Perfection

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted to LJ in September of 2008.

**Perfect Autumn**

"You ever done trick-and-treating?" Danny asked, contemplating the Minstrel he was about to pop in his mouth. "I hear some bits of London've got loads of Americans, you know, diplomats and such. Keeps all the wives and kids busy for the whole of October." The chocolate shell crunched satisfyingly between his teeth. _Mmm_.

"Trick- _or_ -treating," Nicholas corrected him, eyes fixed on the reader. "And yes, it's true of some of the more affluent neighborhoods. A few streets down from where I grew up, we'd see kids in costumes going door to door. Twenty-five."

"Rather cool, if you ask me. Bonfire Night's _way_ better. Twenty-nine! Cuttin' it _close_." Danny winced, his right hand creeping to his chest.

"You'd better not overdo it," Nicholas warned, tearing his eyes away from the reader, his voice dark with concern. "You're lucky the doctors are letting you do _this_ much."

"I can handle it. Just got a bit carried away, is all. Hey, _thirty_."

"Eat your Minstrels and leave it to me," Nicholas sighed, sheepishly reaching over to steal a handful. "Haven't you got a new notebook to draw in?"

"Left it at home," Danny confessed, offering the whole bag. "Besides, I've eaten too many."

Hesitantly, Nicholas nodded and took the bag. He tossed back three of the chocolates, then tucked the rest away in the door's storage compartment. "Twenty-seven."

"I bet they have _amazing_ sweets in America. Maybe we should introduce trick-or-treating here in Sandford! I bet it would really catch on."

"Do you have any idea what a _mess_ it leaves? We'd be stepping in chewing-gum and picking up Flumps wrappers for weeks. No to mention the vandalism—"

"Better watch it," Danny said, giving Nicholas a meaningful glance. "You're starting to sound like _them_."

"Oh, shut it. To tell you the truth, I sometimes miss all the bustle. _What_? I _do_!"

"So what would you dress as, then? Kermit the Frog?"

"One need not dress up to hand out sweets. Thirty- _one_ , Danny, let's—"

"Aw, let 'im _go_ ," Danny sighed, patting Nicholas on the arm. "I know! You could wear your uniform."

Nicholas glared at him, slumping back into his seat. "People are bloody sick of seeing me in my uniform."

"I'd wear mine, too," said Danny, hopefully. "You wouldn't be alone."

"Thanks, Danny," Nicholas said, offering him that small, private smile. "It's the thought that counts." He rummaged in the storage department, producing a few Minstrels.

Danny accepted them eagerly and ate them one by one. The last, he reached over and set against Nicholas's lips. Nicholas almost spit it out for laughing. _Yeah, trick-or-treat!_

**Perfect Christmas**

"So help me, if this is another peace lily? You're done for. Don't get me wrong, they're _nice_ and all, but I don't think I've got room for any more— _oh_."

The loosely sellotaped wrapping paper fell away beneath Danny's careful fingers, exposing a protective layer of clear plastic. The orchid's blossoms were white stained with deep purple, elegant in their exotic simplicity. Beside him, Nicholas had one fist pressed to his mouth, as if he'd expected Danny would be disappointed.

"Nicholas, it's _beautiful_ ," Danny said, setting the plant gingerly down well clear of their feet. "It's going to take a lot of looking-after, isn't it? Orchids are picky, Leslie Tiller used to say." He bit his lip, briefly looking away. "Sorry you had to see that. Her dying, I mean. I don't think I ever asked if you were all right."

"I'm fine, Danny," Nicholas reassured him, only as at-ease as such a high-strung bloke as himself ever got. "I've kept orchids in the past—in London. I'll help you look after it."

"I'm afraid a box might fall on it," said Danny, nervously. But that wasn't _all_ he was afraid of.

"You should really think about unpacking. I mean—when the holidays are over, of course. I'd be happy to help you. No use letting all the space you've got here go to waste, although I think you should have a word with the landlady about that leak in your bathroom ceiling. I don't know the first thing about fixing pipes."

"Neither do I," Danny admitted, hazarding a grin. "You got plans for New Year's?"

"Nah," said Nicholas, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head. "Just staying at home here in good old Sandford, maybe nipping 'round the pub with my best mate."

"You're even starting to _talk_ like us," Danny said, awkwardly fishing between the cushions. "So, I hope you don't mind this is a bit squashed..."

Nicholas leaned forward, instantly alert. He took the small parcel in both hands, turning it a few times before pulling off the badly squashed bow. "You didn't have to go to any trouble, Danny."

"S'no trouble at all," Danny reassured him. "Go on, open it!"

Nicholas spent several long moments struggling with the botched wrap-job. He finally got down to the faux-leather black jewelry box, which gave a satisfying squeak when he opened it. His eyes rested on its contents for a few startled seconds, darted questioningly to Danny's face, and then back to the box. "Danny, you _didn't_ —"

"I thought it might look nice on the chain with that other medal you've got. A bloke needs all the protection he can get in our line of work, right? Hey, check out the reverse—it's engraved, even."

Nicholas bit his lip as he flipped the thing over with delicate application of thumb and forefinger, reading slowly. "Yeah, Danny. It _has been_. Thanks."

"And here's to many more," Danny said, retrieving his bottle of lager. "So, what're we doing for New Year's after nipping 'round the pub?" The flutter in his chest had eased somewhat, as had the tense ripple of pain beneath his scars. _Bloody things_.

Nicholas looked up from the task of unbuttoning his shirt, the chain already caught up in his fingers. "I hadn't thought about it, to be honest. Would you mind...?"

"No," said Danny, hastily, taking the box off of Nicholas. He removed the medal from its linchpin, just in time to watch Nicholas fiddle the clasp of his chain free. "May I..."

Nicholas nodded and held the chain in place while Danny slipped the opposite end through the bale of the pendant. He coaxed the clasp out of Nicholas's grasp and refastened it for him, turning it all about until the medals fell just _so_ below Nicholas's collarbone. _There_. Nicholas's eyes were fixed intently on Danny's hand against his chest.

Danny straightened Nicholas's collar and hastily folded his hands in his lap. "Looks right and proper, that does. Gold suits you."

"I got you a fucking _orchid_ ," Nicholas said, and it was only then that Danny realized he was more drunk than he'd previously let on. "What'm I supposed to do _now_?"

"Nothing," Danny said. "The orchid is _amazing_ , in case you hadn't noticed!"

Nicholas slumped back against the couch and fished on the side table for his beer. "Merry Christmas, Danny. I'll do better next year, I _promise_."

"You couldn't if you tried," Danny said, and, to hell with it, reached over and took Nicholas's hand. "Merry Christmas, Nicholas. I wouldn't spend it any other way."

Wordlessly, Nicholas squeezed back.

**Perfect New Year's**

The evening had gone uneventfully so far, except for the part where they'd had to escort Cartwright and Wainwright home, one after the other, on counts of semi-indecent exposure. Danny was pretty sure Nicholas had made that up on the spot, but he'd been willing to go along with it. The pub would be a more agreeable place without them harrassing Doris and every other reasonably young woman in sight.

"What time is it?" Danny asked, dragging Nicholas up to the counter. "Two pints of the guest ale, please!"

"Eleven forty-six," said Nicholas, taking his glass with unsteady hands. "We'd better cut ourselves off pretty soon. _We_ need to be able to walk home."

"Don't worry!" Doris shouted, clearly just as drunk as her tormentors had been. "Danny'll carry you!" Her laughter ricocheted gratingly off every glass in the room.

Danny ignored her and turned to Nicholas, whose cheeks were reddening ever so slightly. "C'mon, let's go outside. The beer garden's open. It's not _so_ cold."

"I suppose not," said Nicholas, gratefully following him out.

"Pity we can't see the telly, though," Danny said, shoving his free hand deep in his pocket. "It's kind of tradition. I wish Dad could be here."

"We'll go see him tomorrow," Nicholas said, setting _his_ free hand on Danny's shoulder. "How's that?"

"Yeah, all right," sighed Danny, turning to face him. "As long as you're not too hung-over."

"I don't _get_ hung-over," said Nicholas, indignantly. "I just get...headaches."

"That's pretty much what a hang-over _is_ , to be fair," Danny reminded him.

"Whatever. My point is, I don't... _won't_...get a headache."

"That's really sweet," Danny said, staring at his feet. If he wasn't careful, this whole plan was going to go pear-shaped. "Thanks, Nicholas."

"But we're not going if _you've_ got a hang-over."

That gave them both a few moments' laughter, followed by a stretch of awkward silence. Nicholas smiled and looked up at Danny almost shyly. "You think we're off to a good start?"

"What d'you mean do I think we're— _oh_. Fuck. What time is it?"

Nicholas glanced at his watch. "Nearly there. Anything you'd like to say, any resolutions you'd like to make? Me, I'm crap at resolutions. I usually don't make them." Nicholas took Danny's glass off of him, setting it aside on one of the abandoned wooden tables with his own. "This calls for a bit of gravity. Drinks can wait."

It was the most that Nicholas had said in one breath all evening. Danny returned the smile, shrugging, drawing his hands out of his pockets as casually as he could manage. "I think we've done all right so far. All that do-gooding and shit, saving poor Doris from the clutches of evil..." Danny's mouth went dry, and he swallowed.

"Clutches of gross idiocy is more like it," said Nicholas, unexpectedly closing the space between them. "Listen, when you asked me if I had any _plans_ , was that..." He swallowed, apparently no more able than Danny to continue.

"We've got plans now," Danny offered, abruptly scared. "Like you said, we'll go see Dad. He'll appreciate it."

"I was thinking more along the lines of tonight," Nicholas said, his cheeks burning redder than before. His eyes were fixed on their feet.

"Oh," Danny murmured, his heart swelling with relief. "Well, it was..."

Nicholas was looking at him now, his eyes all at once hopeful and guarded.

"The stupidest come-on I ever thought up," Danny mumbled, taking _his_ turn to stare at the ground. "M'sorry, Nicholas. I shouldn't beat around the bush. You don't deserve it."

"Perhaps not," Nicholas said, "but I at least hope I deserve _you_. It's midnight."

Danny could scarcely hear the pounding of his heart above all the hoots and whistles that hounded them from inside. Nicholas's lips were gentle and warm and everything he'd _hoped_ they'd be. Behind Nicholas's back, which was facing the window, he indicated with two emphatic fingers that the whole lot of them could jog the fuck on. This was _his_ New Year's kiss, and he wasn't about to let _anybody_ ruin it.

**Perfect Sunday**

The walk home was all giddy, drunken stumbling, and since Nicholas's place was closest, that's where they ended up. There was an awkward moment on the front steps, followed by Nicholas swearing a blue streak as he rummaged in his pockets for the keys.

"You must owe the box ten quid by now," Danny said, shuffling his feet.

Two seconds later, Nicholas got the door open and stumbled through. Just a few steps behind him, Danny caught hold of his coat to keep him from falling. Instead, it turned out that Nicholas's momentum was enough to drag _both_ of them down. Danny huffed, fingers flying to where Nicholas's heel had jammed into his ribs. For a few startled seconds, they lay there blinking at each other, and then started to laugh. Danny found his feet first, offering Nicholas a hand. No sooner were they up than Nicholas kissed him again, quick and fierce, as if he feared he might lose his nerve.

"Stay," Nicholas said, his voice unbearably strained. "Unless you've got plans, that is."

"Must've read my mind," Danny murmured in reply, tugging him close. "Besides, you haven't shown me properly around the place. I haven't seen what's upstairs."

Nicholas's bedroom was roughly the size of his old hotel room—only cleaner, brighter, and _much_ more homey. Nicholas drifted over to the window where, amazingly, his peace lily sat thriving. That he had been able to scoop up and save the thing in the wake of smashing it over Lurch's head was, in Danny's estimation, the finest example of his astonishing tenacity to date. Danny followed him, peering curiously out into the street. Hesitantly, he reached out, his fingers skimming along Nicholas's upper arms.

"It's so quiet," Nicholas said, catching hold of Danny's hands as they crept up to his shoulders. "You wouldn't know it's a whole new year. Nobody's banging pots and pans in the streets, nobody's out singing—"

Danny turned Nicholas around, cutting him short. The sight of Nicholas's fond, tired eyes was enough to patch the last few cracks in his resolve. He leaned in and pressed his mouth to the soft skin below Nicholas's earlobe, relishing the feel of standing cheek to cheek.

"Nobody's watching," Danny whispered, tugging at his elbows. "Not now. _C'mon_."

Nicholas threw down the covers in one fell swoop, every line of his posture radiating tension. The sheets looked cool and clean—cooler and cleaner than Danny's, anyway—and when they sat down side by side on the edge of the mattress, it barely sagged. Danny gave a good bounce, testing for feedback. The mattress remained unmoved.

"We'll just have to break it in, that's all."

Danny snapped his head up and blinked at Nicholas, not quite believing what he'd just heard. Nicholas was trying his level best to keep a straight face, but a smile played comically at the corners of his mouth, just _daring_ Danny to do something about it.

Wrestling Nicholas free of his jumper proved to be a somewhat difficult task, but beneath that, his shirt buttons were slow, easy going. Danny took his time, his eyes fixed on the medals where they glinted smartly against Nicholas's pale chest. Nicholas was ticklish, as it turned out: Danny's hands resting lightly on his sides triggered a short burst of laughter. Danny kissed him for it, taking the opportunity to slip a hand tentatively down to his fly. Nicholas tensed, but only for a moment. When Danny eased his hand lower, getting in a good, firm squeeze, Nicholas made a sound that was somewhere between _ahhh_ and several of Danny's failed attempts at swan-song.

"Cocktease," he muttered, his fingers absently stroking through Danny's hair.

"I don't think that's on the list of swears," Danny said, and slid down onto his knees.

Nicholas tasted like salt and skin, musky, with the faintest trace of what Danny was sure he'd think of, in time, as simply just _him_. He'd feared he might find this unpleasant, but any and all peculiarities became instantly bearable when Nicholas tightened his grasp on Danny's shoulders and gasped his name, helplessly, over and over.

By the time it was _his_ turn, they were both naked and stretched out full-length on the bed, tangled up in the sheets—no longer so cool _or_ so clean—and in each other.

It wasn't until later, about the time dawn had begun to creep on the horizon, that Danny murmured, sleepily, his cheek plastered firmly to Nicholas's chest and his fingers caught up in the chain at the nape of his neck, "I think I'm getting a bit hung-over."

Nicholas yawned and rubbed his back, his lips pleasantly grazing Danny's forehead.

"We'll still go see your dad. Visiting hours'll go fairly late. It's a holiday."

"It's Sunday," sighed Danny, contentedly, and finally drifted off to sleep.


	2. Adjustments

**Acquiescence**

For the first time in his life, Nicholas was having difficulty getting to work. Normally, it involved the mornings he woke up in Danny's bed—or, alternatively, the mornings that he woke up with Danny in _his_. Given that both sets of circumstances combined accounted for roughly three mornings out of five (and were a _definite_ on their days off), the issue needed to be addressed. It was all well and good that Danny's drowsy kisses and half-awake caresses meant more to him than arriving the customary half an hour early, but the fact that even a lazy-arse of Doris's caliber had begun to give him funny looks was just asking for trouble. Some days, even Saxon looked worried.

"I'll save it for once we've got home, then," Danny said, chasing Nicholas across the bedroom with the sock he'd dropped on his way out of the bathroom. "I promise!"

With an exasperated sigh, Nicholas snatched the sock off of him. "I've been better about packing for overnight, but that's not so much the issue. It's that the routine's been disrupted, and I fear our work may start to suffer."

Danny gave him a dubious look. "You remember how late Dad used to get in, right?"

"I'm not your dad," Nicholas said, hopping on one foot as he struggled to put the wayward thing on. "I'm your— " _Partner? Lover? Other half, for crying out loud?_ "—well, _yours_. And I don't want to go getting either of us in trouble."

"Seeing as you're the Inspector, I'm not sure how that'd work. If you don't slap us both on the wrists, then nobody will. It's a win-win situation. Cake all around!"

"It's an _awkward_ situation," Nicholas corrected him, hunting around for his shoes. "Danny, where— _oh_." Danny was on his way back in the bedroom door with Nicholas's shoes in hand. "Thanks," he muttered sheepishly, tossing them to the floor and stepping in.

"I suppose we could set up a schedule," Danny offered, somehow already dressed. "You know, a few days here and then a few days at your place, just so we get into some kind of rhythm. Or whatever. Honestly, I'm not fussed, but I hate that you _are_."

Nicholas straightened up and looked at him, suddenly embarrassed. That Danny hadn't even noticed a problem was certainly telling, and it made him feel all the more guilty for having brought it up. Perhaps they were doing all right after all. Although it _did_ still tug on Nicholas's heartstrings something fierce to see all of Danny's things sitting around in boxes. He wanted to _help_ , wanted to...

"How much longer have you got a lease on this place?" he asked, chasing the thought.

Danny stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, screwing up his face. "About two and a half months, I think—why?"

"Were you dead set on renewing it?"

"I hadn't thought about it," Danny said, shrugging. "Landlady's always done it for me."

Nicholas nodded decisively. It was hardly worth debating any further.

"At least we won't have to pack your things for the move. That'll save us time."

Danny stared at Nicholas for several nerve-wracking seconds until the offer had sunk in.

"I want you to make dead sure you mean that," he said, finally. "Do you?"

Judging by the grin he couldn't contain, the lump in Nicholas's throat could only be good.

"Aw, _Nicholas_."

Instead of being right on time, they were ten minutes _late_.

**Compliance**

"Nicholas?" ventured the pile of boxes standing directly in the doorway. " _Nicholas_!"

"Coming!" Nicholas panted, taking the stairs two at a time. It seemed as if he'd been ferrying stacks of boxes piled three high up to the first floor for hours now. It was a good job he had a spare bedroom. Without it, he had no idea where they'd keep Danny's DVD collection and rather astonishing backlog of comics. Nicholas would have to grill him about those sometime. Danny tended not to rave about books the way he did about films, but the occasional flash of geekishness made Nicholas narrow his eyes.

Between the two of them, they got the final four boxes—blessedly small, but _heavy_ —wrestled up the stairs in about five minutes flat. They collapsed on the daybed, panting, surveying the dust-and-cardboard carnage. Danny reached over and brushed something away from Nicholas's collar, half smiling. Nicholas didn't try to stop him.

"I've got lots of stuff, haven't I?" asked Danny, brushing off his fingers.

"More than I've ever had," Nicholas told him, and it was nothing less than the truth.

"What, _really_? You mean this place was furnished and all?"

"The only items I contributed are the peace lily and my clothes."

Danny frowned and reached for him again. This time, it didn't appear to have anything to do with lint or even random playfulness. He tugged Nicholas in by the shoulders and gave him the sort of slow, searching kiss that suggested one of two things: either he was willing to listen to Nicholas until he'd tired himself out talking, or they could have a nice, unhurried snog exactly where they were and save the whinging for later.

After ten minutes and a great many discarded articles of clothing, it was clear that Danny had more in mind than just a snog. Nicholas sank back against the duvet and let Danny do as he pleased, sighing with exhaustion and relief. If this was his reward for having done most of the strenuous bits, he wasn't about to complain.

"Your stomach's growling," said Danny, much later, running his fingers absently through Nicholas's close-cropped hair. "Got any ideas regarding dinner?"

Nicholas shrugged, pursing his lips against the sunburst tattoo on Danny's shoulder.

"Sorry," Danny sighed, trailing his fingers down Nicholas's spine. "You're knackered."

"Pub," Nicholas said, partly because it took so little effort, and partly because the thought of cooking in his kitchen when the floor was covered with boxes made him cringe.

He could feel Danny's frown in the way that his hands slowed and came to a stop.

"Fine with me. Better get dressed, though. I'll not have your arse on display, thanks! Half the women in town are still eyein' it, and the other half have tried to do worse."

Nicholas kissed Danny's shoulder. He'd see his floor again, but it'd take time. And as for his arse – well, he was more than happy to let Danny lay claim to it.

**Allowances**

Nicholas was fairly proud of himself: it took until the _third_ time he tripped over a random stack of eternally in-transit DVDs for him to call Danny out. The result, as he had anticipated, was _not_ pleasant. Danny had a way of simultaneously wearing that kicked-puppy look and radiating sheer indignation that kept Nicholas in perpetual anxiety over whether he'd been too harsh – and whether retaliation would be forthcoming.

"Sorting them out's taking a lot more time than I thought. Some had got badly out of order, see? I'm on the Rs, though. Almost done," added Danny, hastily, shoving them randomly into place on the purpose-built rack from Ikea that Nicholas had painstakingly installed in what had once been his spare closet. It wasn't as if he'd been using it.

"I see," said Nicholas, chewing on his lower lip. "And this particular variety of alphabetical order would call for the Rs to come after – " he leaned closer and squinted, realizing for the first time that he _might_ need to consider reading glasses " – the Ps. What's become of the Qs?"

"Haven't got any," Danny said, shrugging. "I don't think. Are you all right? Headache or something, yeah? Didn't think I let you drink _that_ much last night, but – "

" _Please_ try to keep them out of the way? Maybe up against the wall, at least, until you've got them all sorted? I'd like to be able to bring your laundry in here without tripping and tossing it this way and that. It takes a long time to fold."

"It weren't my idea, exactly, you doing _that_ ," Danny pointed out. He had a flawless repertoire of guilt-tripping mechanisms, and he wasn't afraid to use them. Nicholas didn't know whether to be disturbed or proud that their relationship seemed to have brought that out in him almost overnight.

"I don't mind it," Nicholas said, which was _mostly_ the truth. "So the least you can do is keep your clutter to a minimum. Fair?" Danny's eyes crinkled a little. Nicholas set his lips in a straight, determined line. He mustn't let it get to him, he _mustn't_ –

"You and Mum would've got along right enough," Danny sighed, and walked past him dejectedly, taking the stairs at a moping, leisurely pace.

 _Oh, for heaven's sake,_ Nicholas thought, taking them two at a time after him. By the time he caught up, Danny was in the kitchen, rummaging in the freezer.

"What's fitting punishment this time, d'you think? We appear to be flat out of ice cream, all sorts. There's no Ben and Jerry's, and there's _definitely_ no more Cornettos. You must be eating those behind my back. That or we're infested with – _mmm_? " 

A kiss and a movie, Nicholas reasoned, were good enough punishment for starters.

**Acceptance**

The bedroom looked rather different from when Nicholas had (belatedly) first moved in. The bed was (far) less likely to get made, and (somehow) Nicholas discovered that he was all right with that. By some miracle, the floor tended to stay (almost) as clear as before, except for when Danny (frequently) forgot and left his pants or the occasional stray shirt lying about. The broad windowsill, at least, was lovely, what with the peace lily at one end and the orchid at the other. There had been some near misses with the curtains, but they were working on that, too.

Danny's DVD collection had eventually got sorted, although Nicholas had had a far larger hand in the task than he'd originally planned. In the process, he'd discovered that Danny had in his possession not only _Wayne's World_ , but also _Wayne's World II_. These had, no doubt, given him pause, but he'd deemed it best not to ask. If Danny ever suggested the dualogy, however, it would be a different story.

Most nights now – when they weren't on an emergency swan-call or escorting their co-workers home from the pub – they settled for more mundane pursuits than movies and pints. There was the eternal conundrum of how two people managed to produce _that_ much more laundry than just one, and there was also the non-conundrum of how two people managed to eat _over_ twice as much food as Nicholas had been accustomed to keeping around (especially given that one of them was Danny). 

The shopping was, Nicholas guiltily had to admit, often the highlight of his domestic week. Even under new management, there was hardly an aisle or a corner of the Somerfield that didn't leave them either in stitches or lost in serious thought. And there was, of course, the ice-cream section. Danny had taught him to treat it with proper respect.

The kitchen was a tip at best and a war zone at worst. Nicholas tried not to think about it.

In the end, they more than got by. Nicholas needed only to glance at Danny fast asleep on his shoulder, _Kindergarten Cop_ lately concluded, to reaffirm what he already knew.


End file.
